My heart is like a bird
by BeccyBr00tal
Summary: He did not understand how much those words made sense. Home. What is home? A building? Somewhere you go at the end of the day? Not likely. To me, home is where the heart is, as corny as that sounds. And I now know where my heart is. It is in a cage, as a bird may well be, my heart is a bird and Brendon is it's captor. Rated T just in case. Ryden / Rydon.


"I... Ryan, I think you should come back" Brendon's voice is beautifully familiar, and I can tell it's him right away... the tone, the texture, the pitch. _Everything_.

It sounds like the honey on my toast in the morning, the birds singing softly, perched in the trees at dawn. Everything good, and everything perfect. Everything I want my life to be endowed with.

"Ryan?"

I focus back on the voice, the one that's calling for my attention, speaking down the telephone at ten to two in the morning on a Tuesday. I don't know what to say, really. Well, I do. I know what I _want _to say.

Of course I want to re-join the band. _The Young Veins _are on hiatus and have been for an entire year, now. _Ryan Ross; once musical genius,now an unnamed failure, unable to be arrogant when he possesses nothing at all._

"I can't, Brendon" I respond, quietly.

For once, I'm in bed. Usually I'd be awake, sat in a club, or on a street corner. Anywhere I can get to be away from the apartment that I so ironically call home.

But tonight, I'm lying awake tucked up in my bed, next to a sleazy blonde. I suppose she looks a little like Jac; they have the same hair, a familiar smell had captured my attention when I'd spotted her at the bar earlier... but she wasn't Brendon, and Brendon was what I wanted, what I needed.

"Please just... Ryan, I miss you"

The words cut through me like a million shards of glass, and I almost gasp aloud, falling back against the headboard of my bed sharply, and hurting the back of my head.

"You miss me?" I whisper into the receiver, rubbing the back of my head soothingly.

"Yeah, Ry... Yeah, I do" His voice is soft, now, and it reminds me of old times.

"Sarah..." I say the word as an explanation, exasperated.

"It's you." His reply is gentle, like a lovers, and relaxed, too.

"It's always been you," He murmurs, "Always. Ever since the day I met you, I knew it would be you, Ryan Ross. And you know that it's me,too. You never loved Jac, nor Keltie. It was me, and you know it."

I don't know how to reply to this, so I sit in silence, a thousand words circulating inside my head, ricocheting across every part of my brain until I manage to say something. It's the first coherent thing that pops into my mind, and so I half whisper, half sing the words:

"I missed your skin when you were East"

"You clicked your heels and wished for me" Brendon's voice is just as perfect as I remembered it.

"It's awful, might I add," He then says, slowly, "Having to stand on stage, singing out those lyrics and smiling down at Sarah, pretending that they're directed at her pretty little face"

I don't reply, so he continues, "I'm... I'm in town. Your town."

Silence on my part, as I process his words.

"Can I come and see you?" His voice is quiet and hesitant.

"Sure"

He hangs up. Brendon knows exactly where I live; he spent most of his time here when we were in the band together.

I climb out of bed, slowly, trying not to wake up my unwanted guest. I slip across the room, not turning on any lights and letting the moonlight guide my bare feet and naked form across to where my jeans have been slung on the back of an armchair in the lounge. I tug them on, not bothering with underwear, and button up a shirt that's close by, slide my feet into some shoes, and head off into the night.

I find my way down the apartment building steps, irritated at my haste, but dying to see him all the same. There are some trees across the way from the building, shadowing out a nearby park, and littered with the leaves of an early autumn. Brendon is standing among these trees, lounging on one but not looking my way.

As I walk towards his perfect form, I can't help but let my eyes fly over his body; his legs, securely packed into those tight jeans, that make his ass look amazing, the black shirt I'd bought him all those years ago, showing just a little of his pure white stomach, those visible hip bones that my fingers itch to caress, and then, of course, that angelic face, framed with heavily rimmed glasses, his hair slicked back and cheekbones more prominent than they were before, his lips still slightly too large, his eyes perfectly framed by thick lashes, but his face more or less not touched by age.

Looking up, as if sensing my presence, Brendon strides over towards me. Without saying a word, and keeping his expression completely emotionless, he takes my wrist in his grasp and tugs me over towards the shadows of the trees. I let him lead me, although I could easily retrain, pull away from him and walk away, demand to know what he's playing at.

Yet I don't do any of those things, although maybe I should.

"Your hands are cold" He murmurs once we're concealed within the trees, their tall branches stretching skywards, poking holes into the soaring black above us, allowing light, which takes the form of the stars, lighting our way.

He's too close for comfort, of course. Our bodies are nearly touching, and I feel a surge of electricity running between us, even after he's dropped my wrist.

"I know the worlds a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home" He's extremely close, now, singing my own lyrics into my ear. Those were the very lines I'd always told him to watch, always shouted at him, exasperated, as he missed an important note, or sang it completely off key. But right now, he'd nailed it. He'd hit every single perfect note, and he was everything.

I was no longer able to feel the cold as it stung my nearly numb fingers, nor the wind as it ruffled my hair. I could only feel him; his hot breath on my neck, his fingers as they found their way to mine, one hand dragging my own up to his chest, my fingers stretching across the fabric and resting over his beating heart, feeling its steady beat. The only consistent thing; Brendon's beating heart. The only thing that life could not take away, but that death could one day claim.

"I missed you" It's the first thing I've said, and it's the truth.

He leans towards me, slow and gentle, like it's our first time. Far, far away from the backstage fucks and the tour bus screwing, where I'd scream like the little whore I was, grabbing at his hair and pulling him closer, scratching his back with what little nails I had, biting him, _hurting _him, grinding against him until-

"Ryan"

I look up and find his face nanometres away from mine, his lips parted, willing and ready. I close the distance that's between us, brushing my lips against his in an almost graceful manner. He claims my bottom lip between his, bruising it with sweetened kisses. Brendon lets out a gasping breath and I am overwhelmed by his scent, his taste, him...

"I love you, Ryan Ross" He pushes the words out against my lips, pushing me backwards so that I am against a nearby tree, pressed so tightly that I can feel its ragged edges cutting into my back. Brendon is leaning against me, our bodies fitting together like perfect puzzle pieces, together again at last, after years of yearning.

"I love you too" I murmur just before he takes dominance, slipping his talented tongue between my lips and exploring the wet cavern that is my mouth.

We kiss awhile longer, holding each other, whispering into each other's ears, telling stories of how much we've missed this. His hands roam to the small of my back pulling up my shirt a little and stroking soothing circles. My fists, roll down his spine, grazing over familiar territory, getting used to feeling this again.

"Promise never to leave me again" He sighs into my mouth, then he leans back, watching me intently.

"You clicked your heels and wished for me" I reply, earnestly, "Your wish, my command"

"Welcome home, Ryan Ross"

He did not understand how much those words made sense. _Home._ What is home? A building? Somewhere you go at the end of the day? Not likely. To me, home is where the heart is, as corny as that sounds. And I now know where my heart is. It is in a cage, as a bird may well be, my heart is a bird and Brendon is it's captor. He holds it on a rocky edge, always saving it before it gets too battered.

_My heart is like a bird._

* * *

_**A/N: This is the first Rydon Fic I've ever written, so I hope you enjoy. I dedicate it to my best friend, Hannah Wall, who has shown me that home is indeed where the heart lies (:**_

_**-Beccy xx**_


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